Pulp Free, But Extra Blobbish
by Dude13
Summary: A certain figment may not exactly be the best source of vitamin C, but at least he'll give everyone else their daily recommended dosage of absurdity. Oneshot


**Author's Warning**: Like everything else, this takes place in my series, set up by the events in my first story "More Than My Friend" where the big event is that Frankie adopts Mac as her "little brother". If you haven't read that story yet, I strongly suggest you do so now, or else you might get confused.

* * *

"I'm hoooooooome!"

The boy hollered as he trotted through the doors of the Victorian mansion. No sooner had he entered, almost immediately he spotted a familiar azure blob standing idly in the middle of the foyer. Grinning eagerly from ear to ear, Mac instinctively darted over to greet his creation without a second thought.

"Hey, Bloo!" He laughed while scampering over to the unusually still imaginary friend. "How're you-"

In his excitement, Mac completely failed to notice the most unusual way Bloo was completely stock-still, save his wide, unblinking eyes which constantly darted about and never remained in place for a moment. As Mac skidded to a halt, the little figment finally seemed to acknowledge his creator's presence, though not exactly in a manner the boy would expect, to say the least.

"_AAAAAAAAAAUUUUUGGGGGGGGHHHHH_! DON'T TOUCH ME!"

As soon as his imaginary friend's horrendous earpiercing shriek almost deafened him on the spot, the atrociously startled child clumsily backed off a few paces, nearly falling flat on his rear in his haste to make some much-needed distance. Once he had made his quick retreat, the dumbstruck boy just gawked confusedly for a few tense moments.

"…._Huh_?" was all Mac could grunt bewilderedly. Bloo however didn't even pass a glance in the child's direction as he immediately hugged himself tightly and began to quiver violently in immense fright.

"Don't touch me! Don't touch me! _DON'T TOUCH ME_!" he only continued to scream shrilly at the top of his lungs as he started to rock back and forth frantically, like he had just escaped from a mental asylum. As the little creature appeared to be on the verge of sobbing in indescribable terror, his flummoxed creator stared bewilderedly before taking a nervous gulp and braving a few wary steps forward.

"Bloo?" Mac asked as he cautiously approached his distraught creation again. "Bloo, are you-"

"I SAID _DON'T_ TOUCH ME! I MIGHT SPILL!" Bloo screeched as his tone leapt five octaves higher, and he started frantically lashing out indiscriminately with his stubby appendages in a desperate attempt to drive the boy away.

"Ow! Bloo, quit it! Ow! Ow!" Mac yelped as he tried to shield his face from the rain of blows. "Ow! Ow! Bloo, what're you-"

"DON'T TOUCH ME! KEEP AWAY FROM ME! DON'T TOUCH ME! KEEP AWAY FROM ME! HELP! HELP! FRANKIEEEEEEEEE! FRANKIEEEEEEEEEEE!" the hysterical imaginary friend practically bawled like a scared toddler calling for its mother. "_FRANKIEEEEEEEEE_!"

Only seconds later after he began screeching to the high heavens for help, a lanky redheaded young woman sprinted pell-mell from the kitchen.

"Bloo? Is that you?" she called worriedly as she rushed upon the scene. "Bloo, are you – OH_ NO_!"

"_Ow_! _Ow_!" Mac cried as Bloo continued to wildly slap him in self-defense. "Frankie, why's he-"

"Get away from him, quick! Get away! Get _away_!" Frances "Frankie" Foster frenetically scolded the child as in a heartbeat she shoved her slender arms between the two and forcefully wrenched them apart like a redheaded jaws of life.

"What?" the child whimpered confusedly as she roughly shoved him away. "Wait, why-"

"Did I spill? Did I spill?" Bloo whined piteously as he frantically checked himself over. "I _did_, didn't I? Oh my God, I did! I did! Frankie, I-"

As he babbled incessantly in fright, the caretaker swiftly dropped to her knees and threw her arms around the spooked little blob in a tight hug.

"Shhhhh…" she hushed in a hasty attempt to calm the panic-stricken imaginary friend as she coddled him close and stroked his head gently. "Shhhh, it's okay, it's okay, you're fine, you didn't spill-"

"A-are you sure?" Bloo whined as his entire body trembled uncontrollably. "Check the floor f-for any puddles of my tangy goodness, I might have-"

"Shhhhh, we don't have to." Frankie only whispered comfortingly. "You're fine, you're just fine….you didn't spill, everything's gonna be okay…I promise, you're okay, you're just fine…shhhh….calm down…"

After a good two minutes of hugging, petting, and whispered reassurances, the extraordinarily tense little blob finally seemed to settle down somewhat, and finally tossed his blobby stubs around her neck with a hoarse sob.

"Yeah, there we go…" Frankie murmured wearily with a wan grin as he wept quietly. "See? You're okay, you're just fine…shhhhh…"

Meanwhile, as the entire time the bizarre min-drama unfolded, Mac silently watched the remarkably ludicrous spectacle from a safe distance, looking almost painfully flummoxed by it all. As he stared curiously with a dangling jaw that nearly touched the floor, Frankie finally glanced over in his direction and managed a pitiful excuse for an apologetic grin.

"H-hi, pal…how was school today?" she muttered in a woefully futile attempt to bring a sense of normalcy to the otherwise outrageously ridiculous moment. For a few moments more, the little boy just gawked mutely, almost petrified with excruciating confusion before he finally took a deep breath and asked softly,

"...F-Frankie?"

"Yeah?" she replied with a grimace, even though she knew fully well what was to follow.

"_Why_ is Bloo-"

The words had barely rolled of his tongue before the caretaker frowned and started sputtering guiltily, "Mac, I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I'm so sorry, I _never_ meant for this to happen at all, I just-"

"Sorry?" the boy repeated incredulously. "Wait, sorry for...hold on, what do you mean by...wait, wait...Frankie, _what's_ going on?"

As the dumbfounded child waited for anything to allay his agonizing bewilderment, the redhead averted her gaze, sighed heavily, and began to reluctantly explain.

"Okay, see...the little guy was really getting on Herriman's nerves this morning...I mean, not like that's anything out of the ordinary, but serious, today for some reason he was getting under the rabbit's skin _more_ so than usual. Trust me, I seriously thought that the bunny was about to try and strangle him or something. So, to get him out of the rabbit's hair, I decided take a risk took him along with me to run some errands." At this point she paused to break out into a wan smile. "It actually wasn't that bad at all, actually. To be honest he was pretty well-behaved today, and he fetched things for me in the grocery store and while-"

"Hold on a sec!" Mac protested as his confusion only continued to grow by the second. "But...but that doesn't explain why-"

At this point Frankie's face suddenly began to burn brightly with a spectacular crimson blush. "No, see, then I…well, Bloo was doing so well so far, I thought it'd be okay if I let him stay by himself in the waiting room while I…" She gulped nervously before reluctantly finishing her confession. "While I had my..., see, I had a check-up at the dentist today, and-"

"_What_?" the profoundly appalled boy gasped. "Oh, you _didn't_-"

"It seemed like a good idea at the time!" the girl snapped back defensively. "Don't tell me it was flat-out bad judgment on my part! Nuh-uh, trust me, I know, I _know_! Do you actually think I'm happy he got into the anesthetic gas? Huh? You honestly think I _wanted_ this to happen? Do I look giddy with joy to you?"

"The _what_?" The boy murmured dumbly in bewilderment. "He got into the…_huh_? Wait…"

After failing miserably to make a shred of sense of it all, he began tugging on his dark-brown locks and burst out wailing piteously, "He got into the laughing gas, and now he's...wait, wait, _wait_! That...that doesn't make any sense!"

"You're telling _me_?" she groaned miserably. "I'm sorry, but _please_ don't try and ask me why he's doing everything _but_ laughing, because I only have one answer for you; I don't know, I don't know, I don't know, I'm telling you, _I don't know_. Why is one whiff of the gas doing this to him? Why's it making him paranoid and hallucinogenic beyond belief? No one told _me_ anesthesia has this kind of effect on imaginary blue blobs! Your guess is just as good as mine!"

"Wait…So he's _really_ been-" Mac murmured as he eyed his creation cautiously.

"Tripping out like this since I got him home?" she murmured as she averted her gaze in tremendous embarrassment. "Yes, _very_ much so. Believe me, he's not playing a joke; he's _definitely_ out of his mind."

As if purposely trying to help prove that she was indeed telling the truth, Bloo suddenly announced as his eyes darted around wildly, "I can control when it's real and when it's not real! See, like right now...it's not real! It's not real guys! It's not...wait! Wait! _AUGH_! It's real again!" he wailed. "It's real again! Don't let anyone touch me! Don't! Don't! No, no, no!"

Immediately the figment tightened his hold upon Frankie and buried his head under the crook of her neck, all the while constantly murmuring incomprehensibly under his breath. As he shook like a bowl of Jell-O, Mac just gazed blankly at his spooked creation, while the redhead just sighed wearily.

"So..._that_ was all because of the laughing gas?" the little boy queried as he desperately wished that this was merely one of the greatest pranks of all times. Alas, his guardian's dead-serious expression made it quite clear this was no hoax.

"_You'd_ be freaking out too if you thought you were a tall glass of orange juice." The caretaker grumbled crossly as she clambered to her feet, all the while still cradling Bloo gently.

"...He thinks _what_?" The indescrbably dumbfounded eight-year-old whimpered hoarsely after he had stared wordlessly stared at her for a full minute in disbelieving silence.

"H-how can I give people their daily recommended amount of vitamin C if I'm _dead_? Huh?" Bloo suddenly mumbled frightfully as he craned his head about and showed off the glazed, far-away look in his bloodshot eyes. "How? My head's wide open, and my fragile body is only made of glass, s-someone's definitely g-g-gonna get me…. definitely gonna get me…such an easy target…anyone, any minute, just one push…".

As the badly hallucinating blob rambled on an on, Frankie shook her head sadly as she gently patted his head in an attempt to settle him down.

"See?" she explained morosely to the eight-year-old. "Again, _don't_ ask me why, all I could figure out is that he thinks that if you touch him, he'll spill, and once he's empty, he'll...y'know...die."

Mac couldn't help but stare vacantly at the dead-serious young woman as he struggled like mad to grudgingly accept the outrageously ludicrous truth.

"So…that's it?" he asked softly, still barely able to believe what he was hearing.

"That's it." Frankie answered ruefully.

"Seriously?"

"Dead serious, pal."

"Laughing gas?"

"He was found screeching inside a storage closet."

"Honest?"

"_I_ was the one who found him."

"And... he thinks he's a big glass of orange juice? Is that it?"

"As far as I can make sense of it, yup."

"And he can't be tipped over because…well, y'know…"

"Bingo." She sffirmed curtly as the badly drugged imaginary friend in her arms began to moan unhappily.

"Not safe….gonna spill and die…..they're gonna get me…."

As he rambled on, sputtering absolute nonsense, the others watched him pityingly for a few moments befoe Mac couldn't help but inquire as he realized just one more pecularity,

"...Does this have anything to do with why he's not blinking anymore, either?"

Frankie grimaced and answered softly. "Well...according to him, he says that's when 'the gnomes' try and get him..."

"Oh...um...okay..." The hopelessly bewildered child grunted as he fought like mad to take in the sheer madness of it all as yet another unbearably awkward quiet descended upon the three. It didn't take long though for the little boy to realize that it little good denying the existence of the horrifically bizarre situaion at hand; if he didn't like it, he quickly concluded the best thing then would be to try and be part of the solution, _whatever_ that could possibly be.

"So...do we...do we just keep an eye on him until-" Mac began to query weakly.

The caretaker just moaned exhaustedly before cutting him off. "You know just as well as I do it's _never_ that easy."

"What? But all we have to-"

"I'm sorry, pal, but I'm afraid 'watching him until this wears off' is completely out of the question. I've already been chasing him around all afternoon because he won't stay with me for more than five minutes." Frankie explained.

"Why doesn't he think he's safe with you?" the child demanded curiously.

"If you thought you were made entirely out of glass, would _you_ seriously feel like you were safe anywhere?" she mumbled, as Bloo continued to lament his horrendously non-existent plight.

"Gonna spill…gonna spill and die…Frankie, I'm gonna spill…gonna spill and die….gonna tip over…just one moment, that's all it takes…tip and spill….tip and spill, and it's over….gonna spill…I...I-I'm freaking out, here! Someone's gonna-"

"Shhh….calm down…." The caretaker muttered half-heartedly as his incessant whining wore her patience thin. Nevertheless, she continued to dutifully attempt to comfort the poor creature. Meanwhile, Mac observed his imaginary friend intently and racked his sharp mind for a solution of some sort to their most peculiar dilemma.

"Huh…" he muttered thoughtfully to himself while contemplating furiously. "Now where _would_ orange juice feel the safest?"

* * *

"...Okay, now add a dash more of pepper..." Frankie directed her helper, who obediantly did as told.

"Like this?" Mac asked as he added some more spices to the concoction inside the massive metal pot sitting atop the kitchen stove.

"Almost, just a little bit more, and...okay, not too much, just enough to..._there_ we go, now all we need to-"

"Hello, dearies!" A wizened old woman affectionately greeted the lanky redhead and her granddaughter's eight-year-old assistant as she suddenly pushed open the door and hobbled into the kitchen.

"Hi, Grandma." Frankie mumbled distractedly as she stirred the chili. "Dinner's coming along just fine, we'll probably be done in twenty minutes."

"Wonderful!" Madame Foster replied happily with a curt nod as she trundled by. "Now there's no need to heed me, I just want to fetch myself some-"

As soon as realization dawned upon them that the elderly woman was making a beeline for the refrigerator, the mortified caretaker and her alarmed helper immediately glanced into each other's bulging eyes as they began to feel the sharps pangs of panic.

"Whoa, wait, Grandma! Wait! Wait!" Frankie shouted as she whirled about and started gesturing wildly. "Stop! Stop! _Stop_!"

"Don't do it!" Mac yelped as he hastily hopped off the counter. "Don't go near that-"

Not even alarmed by their absolute dismay, the puzzled old woman merely passed them a befuddled glace as she effortlessly tugged upon the door handle. "Goodness, what on earth has gotten you two into such a-"

"_AAAAAAAUUUUUGGGGHHHH_!" a bloodcurdling scream of fright rang out from inside the opened fridge, nearly giving the unsuspecting old lady a garantuan heart attack on the spot. As soon as Madame Foster tumbled flat upon her back with a howl of surprise, Mac raced over and hastily slammed the door back shut, and instantly the screeching came to an abrupt halt.

"Grandma?" Frankie whimpered concernedly as she dropped to her knees alongside her badly startled grandparent. "Grandma, are you-"

Shaking uncontrollably in her massive shock, the ashen-faced woman allowed her granddaughter to prop her upright into a clumsy sitting position as she managed to whisper softly,

"W-why in the w-w-world is Bloo in the….th-the…"

As the atrociously spooked old lady trailed struggled to make sense of her bizzare encounter, Mac grimaced guiltily as Frankie shrugged and flashed a weak grin before answering,

"Um… he kinda...see, he sorta wants to stay fresh for breakfast tomorrow morning..."

**The End **


End file.
